


You talk first, I talk second

by orphan_account



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Bromance, Friendship, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-01-16
Packaged: 2018-05-11 16:37:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5633668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's nothing better than a best friend, unless it’s a best friend with Jedi powers. Scenes from Poe and Ben’s early friendship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gelsey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gelsey/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A misunderstanding between two friends after a flight sim goes wrong. Ben just wants to impress his uncle; Poe would like Aunt Mae to have better hygiene habits.

“You didn’t have to show me up in the sim, you know that, right?” Ben Solo said, shoving his way out of the sonic showers.

Poe Dameron, Ben’s closest friend and trusted X-wing wingman, caught himself against the slippery, condensation slick wall in time to avoid an unpleasant meeting with the floor.

“Force, Ben. You know I didn’t do it on purpose! How was I supposed to know you were going for the proton torpedos after banking left? It was a good thing I managed to slip the tracker onto that attack cruiser, else-- you aren’t even listening to me!”

‘Confrontational,’ ‘mouthy,’ that’s what his mother calls him. But Poe isn’t about to let Ben Kriffing Solo get away with insinuating that he’d purposely ridiculed him in the flight simulator--under Luke Skywalker’s supervision, no less.

Poe followed Ben into the changing room in time to get a get a bit of Force-inspired dirty laundry to the face.

“Sithspit! Ben, that’s enough. Prince or no, you aren’t going to throw your disgusting trousers at me like I’m your nursemaid.”

Untangling the trouser legs, which had inexplicably knotted themselves across his face, Poe was met with the long smirking face of his friend. Ben’s eyes glittered with mischievous intent.

Confrontational he may be, Poe also knew a ceasefire when he saw one.

“All right. I’ll talk first, shall I?”

Carefully avoiding the trail of sonic slick Ben had trailed into the changing room, Poe sank onto the low bench next to him. The air filled with an expectant layer of tension. Sucking in air between his teeth, and shoving down more than a little pride, Poe searched for the words to get through to his thick-skulled friend.

“Look, I get it. Skywalker’s important to you, yeah? His opinion matters.”

No angry outburst was always a good sign to continue.

“I wasn’t trying to, I dunno, show you up today. I promise. You’re my best friend. I wouldn’t do something like that.”

Reaching his stride, Poe dared to take his speech to the next level.

“It’d be like me accusing you of trying to one up me in the sim, except with Aunt Mae instead of Skywalker. You know how much my family’s obsessed with her.”

Next to him, Ben shifted on the uncomfortable metallic bench. “Your Aunt Mae’s a geriatric. I hope she’s not planning on flying an X-wing anytime soon.”

“Yeah, well, it’s the point I was trying to make.”

A pregnant pause, then, uproarious laughter from both boys. The changing room walls augmented their mirth, sending loud guffaws out into the open air. For the first time since exiting the flight simulator, the dark mood that had fallen over the pair was broken. Ben turned to Poe and extended his fist for their “secret” post-training celebratory ritual. It was something the two had made up on a joint family vacation on Naboo many years ago. And like all good things, it never went out of vogue.

No matter how upset Ben made made Poe, he could never leave his friend hanging. Handshake completed, their friendship sealed, Poe reached forward in one swift move and yanked at a lock of Ben’s dark forelock. Ben wrestled him away with an easy flick of his hand, face contorted into a fake scowl. In the next moment, Ben’s face smoothed over once more. He then assumed a posture--back straight, chin tilted down--that meant he was going into full diplomatic mode, something he no doubt picked up from his royal mother.

“Listen, Dameron, I’m sorry I got angry. You, more than anyone, don’t deserve to be drug into my family’s mess. I guess I’m angry at myself. I was the one who broke formation in the sim, and I was the one who fell for the Mithel maneuver.”

Poe snorted good-naturedly. “Yeah, yeah, save some guilt for the rest of us, Highness. You were right to deploy those torpedoes and I was wrong to have run the gunners. And you know I love your family’s drama. Keeps me from thinking of my own.”

“Aunt Mae still demanding you clip her dirty toenails, huh?”

Poe’s groan of dismay could’ve woken the dead. With an almighty lurch, he stumbled up and off the locker bench to retrieve his clothes from the fresher. Struggling to slip into his tunic--still too small, he’d been meaning to ask his mom to take out the shoulders for ages--he gave a muffled but very vocal choice reply.

“Now that’s not nice.”

Head finally emerged from its woolen prison, Poe gave his friend a dark glare to where he was now changing across the room.

“Coming from the guy who called her a geriatric.”

“Not a lie,” Ben shot back, cheekily.

“Yeah, well. Whatever. You think you’re gonna hear about the sim at home?”

Now it was Ben’s turn to groan. “Probably. Uncle Luke’s coming over to dinner tonight. Commander Snoke’s apparently got intel on the underground Republic movement. Kriffing Dad’s in the Outer Rim again, so, no buffer. He’s probably going to tell Mom everything that happened in the sim.”

Both boys finished collecting their belongings and convened to the locker exit. Bright light from the solar system’s two suns spilled across the academy lawn. In the distance, a group of young padawans could be seen training in the initiate salles, wooden training sabers held carefully in hand.

Glancing over to Ben, Poe caught a look of serious consideration on his friend’s face as he examined the younglings. It wasn’t too long ago that Ben was training in the salles: expectations high and even higher expectations placed upon him. Perfection was paramount in the Organa-Solo household. Sometimes Poe didn’t know how Ben handled it all. When he cared to consider his friend’s increasingly frequent angry outbursts, he’d guess it had something to do with being a Jedi in such a Force powerful household. The fights had to be something ridiculous. And Force knows Poe had enough issues at home himself.

“Hey. Comm me tonight if you want to talk, yeah?” Poe bumped his shoulder into Ben’s, a little harder than needed, hoping to jolt his friend out of his melancholy thoughts.

Ben shot him a crass hand gesture in response.

“Now who’s being rude?”

Ben gave him a slanted look, as if he knew about Poe’s private thoughts about his family. Darn Jedi and their dirty mind tricks. But, contrary to his positively un-princely hand signal earlier, the words that came out of Ben's mouth were inordinately sincere.

“Poe? Thanks for being a good friend. I know I make it difficult sometimes, but, thanks.”

Poe had been taught to reward Ben’s sincerity with sincerity.

“Ben? _You’re welcome._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i. Originally a one-shot written in response to Gelsey's prompt on LJ's Star Wars Fic Fest: "Poe Dameron & Ben pre-Kylo Ren -- Poe has always been kind, and it seems sometimes that Ben was born angry. Their friendship before it all went wrong."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poe and Ben get more than they bargain for when Han Solo promises to offer them practical flying experience.

This might be the single greatest day of Poe’s life. Scratch that. It _was_ the greatest day of Poe’s life. Because how could there be anything more wonderful in the entire galaxy than finally getting to fly the Millennium Falcon? 

“It’s a hunk of junk, Dameron. You pilot fighters in sim every day of the week. And you’re not really flying it. Dad said we’re just practicing taking her into lightspeed. There’s no way he’d trust us not to stall her. ” 

Ben Solo stood next to his friend trying his hardest to look unimpressed with what was, large and by, considered to be one of the greatest ships in the galaxy. To Ben’s credit, Poe supposed that having Han Solo as a father would make the whole thing a little less extraordinary. But only a little. The Millennium Falcon was a ship of aeronautical beauty. 

And there she stood in all her glory amidst Or’ala’s gently waving blue grass. Poe had graciously been invited by the Organa-Solos to accompany Princess Organa on her latest diplomatic mission to the nearby star system. Something about it being a ‘good practical experience’ for the education of ‘budding young minds.’ Or so Ben had told Poe’s mother. After much wheedling and, though he’d never admit it, a few shed tears on his behalf, Poe’s mother had reluctantly comm’d Princess Organa to give her consent. 

Mr. Solo, or, as he insisted on being called, Han, had flown the two boys to Or’ala on board the Falcon with the intent to keep them out of trouble. Although Poe suspected it was also to keep himself occupied during Princess Organa’s long negotiation meetings. Well, to Poe’s benefit that Han did decide to take the Falcon. On the journey to Or’ala, Han had grilled Poe and his son about what Luke Skywalker was teaching them in flight school. Then, finding it lacking, declared that the two needed additional hands-on experience. The Falcon had been decided to be the perfect instrument in instruction, and here Poe was, ready to commence what could only be described as a deeply religious experience. 

“Come on, Ben. I know you’re excited too,” Poe objected. “We’ve only talked about flying the Falcon since forever. Besides, you were the one who tried to take her a cycle around D’Qar.” 

“Which I will regret to my dying day. I had to clean the barrack freshers for a month. A month! There are some smells you can never forget, Dameron, and the stench of those freshers is one of them.” 

Ben gave a dramatic shudder for emphasis before continuing. “Besides, like I said, we’re not actually getting to fly it.”

“Maybe we can convince your Dad into letting us fly. Just for a little bit?” 

Unfortunately, at that moment, the man Poe had been intending to oh-so-skillfully convince appeared over his shoulder. 

“Not likely,” Han Solo said. “Unless either of you’ve managed to acquire a piloting license since we’ve arrived here.”

“Dad, do you have a piloting license?” Ben asked, eyes wide, the picture of innocence. 

“None of your business. And for the record, being an intergalactic hero means you’re exempt from certain,” Han waved his hand around mid-air in an attempt to find the appropriate word, “rules.” 

“Of course.” Ben said. 

“Alright. Enough with the chit chat. Your mother’s going to be done with her meeting in three hours, and I promised her I’d be back with you two in time for dinner with the Or’alian ambassador and his family.” 

Groans from both boys. The Or’alian ambassador was fine on his own. It was his son, Gerr Vo, that was the problem. Since they’d arrived on Or’ala, Vo had been nothing but a thorn in Ben and Poe’s sides. Vo was, in short, a complete brat. He complained when Ben and Poe “forgot” to include him in their escapades, and whined the entire time when they did. Anything the two friends considered fun was shot down as “dangerous,” and promptly reported back to the Or’alian ambassador, and de facto Ben’s mother. Poe wouldn’t wish Vo upon his worst enemy. 

“And,” Han continued, loudly, “she expects you to be on your best behavior. That means no more repeats of the Incident That Will Not Be Named, do I make myself clear?”

Ben and Poe fidgeted guiltily under Han’s stern gaze. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Yes, Dad.” 

“Good. Then we’re off. This should be a experience for all of us. Force knows what that knucklehead Skywalker has been teaching you in school.” 

Han turned and made towards the Falcon’s gangway, his two young charges trotting obediently after him. Once inside the Falcon, Han directed Ben and Poe to the cockpit’s two rear seats that, upon being sat on, creaked ominously. While Han made busy bringing the engine to life, Poe took the opportunity to internalize the details of the cabin: gently blinking power system activators, integrated control panels, a missing access panel or two, quadex power core and a Isu-Sim hyperdrive that’d take them up to 1,050 kilometers per hour. Stars, she was beautiful. Right down to the last grease stain. 

Aware of his friend’s eyes on him, Poe turned Ben with an expectant look. Next to him, Ben was grinning magnanimously. 

“What are you so amused by, Highness?” Poe asked. 

Ben’s grin widened. “Oh, nothing. Just thinking about how much Vo would hate being here right now.” 

Poe barked out a laugh. “Can you even imagine? Especially after we--”

“No!” Han interrupted. “There will be no discussion of the Incident That Will Not Be Named on board this ship.” He ran a wearied hand across eyes that clearly wished some things had gone unseen. Gathering his nerve, Han released the external damper and engaged the thrusters in preparation for liftoff. 

Ever undaunted, and ignoring the set of his father’s chin, Ben cajoled, “Aw, c’mon, Dad. You know that they set him right in the end. All it took was a little--”

Mercifully the growl of the Falcon’s engine drowned out the responding string of expletives. 

They were up, up and gone. 

~o~

Surprisingly, learning to take the Falcon into lightspeed was more difficult than Poe had imagined. Maybe it was the size of the ship. So different from the X-wings he was piloting in the sims. Wide, rather than cylindrical and thin, and designed as a freighter rather than fighter. Alternately, there was Han Solo, who--to everyone’s surprise--turned out to be one of the worst co-pilot drivers he’d ever met. 

“Son of a wookie,” Han grit out, as the Falcon listed precariously to the left after dropping out of hyperspeed. “If I make it out alive, remind me to never volunteer for this again.” Han’s fingers twitched at his side, as if only through extreme force of will was he restraining himself from lunging at the controls. 

Already having had his turn at the stick, Ben was now sprawled inelegantly across the two back seats. There was a telltale lilt to his voice that spoke of the enjoyment he was getting from the situation. 

“But Poe’s the best pilot in the academy, Dad. He’d love to show you some of the hat tricks he’s picked up from Master Yei.” 

Poe tucked his chin over his shoulder to give his best friend a glare that had been brewing for quite a while. 

Inspired, Ben shot Poe a double thumbs-up in return. 

Han tilted his head to the side, considering the situation. For a long moment. 

“No,” he decided firmly. “Besides, it looks like we’ve entered foreign airspace. We’ve no room to do much of anything anymore.” 

Sure enough, out of the inky black of space emerged two foreign ships, one slightly smaller than its companion. Poe checked the console for verification that the Falcon had traveled off-course. Instead, he found that they were still safely within the Merdian galaxy to which Or’ala belonged, albeit on its outer fringes. Odd. For one, ships other than that of the Or’alian guard and those few it cleared weren’t allowed out here. It had taken extensive negotiations earlier that morning for the Falcon to obtain aerial permission. Two…

“Han,” Poe said. “We’re nowhere near foreign airspace. And those aren’t your typical Or’alian cruisers. Check out those wings.”

Intrigued by the shift in conversation, which, up to that point had consisted of barked orders and directional hand gestures from Han, Ben sat up in his seat to inspect the approaching ships. 

It only took Ben a second to confirm what Poe already knew. 

“Poe’s right, Dad. That little guy on the left is X-wing. His friend’s a freighter. Check it out,” Ben traced the outline of the smaller of the two ships with a finger. “Huge sublight engine, additional maneuverability engine on the stern, fins, it’s got the works. If I didn’t know better, I’d say Kihraxz. But that’d mean--” 

“Pirates.” Han spoke the word all three of them had been thinking. He turned to his son. “Ben, can you,” and wriggled fingers in approximation of what was meant to be ‘use the Force.’ 

“Already on it.” 

No matter how many times Poe watched Ben use what he liked to call ‘Jedi mind tricks,’ he never got tired of watching it in action. There was something oddly mesmerizing in the way his friend’s face cleared of all emotion in preparation for harnessing the Force’s power. Head bowed, arm outstretched, as if he could draw the foreign ships closer through sheer willpower alone, Poe thought Ben looked like a vengeful god of old. An involuntary shudder ran down his spine. 

Han lay a comforting hand on Poe’s shoulder in response and squeezed. “Don’t worry, kid. We’ll get through this, just wait and see.” 

Rather than try and explain his unease, which he wasn’t even sure he could explain, Poe gave Han a stiff smile of reassurance. 

After a moment, Ben emerged from his trance. “Pirates,” he confirmed. Poe’s stomach swooped. “At least a dozen of ‘em in addition to the two on board that fighter. I can pick up on some of their thoughts. They want to take the Falcon and sell her on the black market. Evidently we’re not to be given quarter.” 

Han issued a swear word that even Poe was impressed with. He filed it away for later use. Well, if there was a later to be had. 

“Right. Poe and Ben, you’re to stay--”

Chaos ensued. 

“We’re not going anywhere--”

“Han, I can help--”

“--like hoodoo we would--”

“--there’s no way we’re hiding when--”

“Enough!” Han shouted. “I can’t even hear myself think. I’m not having either of you on deck when they get close enough to get us in their sights. The Falcon can’t outrun that fighter. Our only chance is to fly the gauntlet and shoot our way through. I’ll need someone on the gunner.” 

“Which I can do,” Poe said. “But I also have a plan. Please, hear me out.” 

Han shot him a slightly skeptical look; Ben turned to him, brows clouded with tension, but eyes filled with trust. 

Poe gathered strength in his friend’s confidence and continued. 

“Right now we’re in pure pursuit, which isn’t doing us any favors. Han, I’d like to push the Falcon from lead to lag through the Kulbit maneuver.” Through the window, Poe pointed to the incoming pirate ships to demonstrate his plan. “Right now we’re at a diagonal to the Kiraxz, nose to nose. A shoot-off isn’t going to end pretty. What we need to do is fake them out. If we can take the lead, pretend to retreat, then,” Poe straightened his hand flat, taking it upside down and over, “use the Kulbit to get behind them in lag, we’ll have a better chance at taking the fighter down. We’ll sail right past the freighter, punch lightspeed and head home. They’ll never suspect the Falcon to go for such a risky tactic.” 

“Damn straight, kid. If the g-force doesn’t kill us the coffin corner will. We’ll stall before we ever get a chance to come out of the loop.” 

Highly aware of both the rising tension and ships growing ever closer, Poe knew he needed to make his point and make it fast.

“True. The Kulbit loop will slow the Falcon so that we’re behind the fighter but the decrease in speed will also stall our engines. Unless Ben,” Poe turned to his friend, “can bump the engine to hold her steady.” 

Ben didn’t hesitate a second. 

“Absolutely.” 

But Poe could read the underlying tension in his voice. He could feel the same uncertainty in himself. Despite the extensive training they had in the sims, Poe felt woefully underprepared to face the reality of actual enemy fire. At some point adrenaline had kicked in, sending his heart thrumming into overdrive. The Falcon’s recycled air felt uncomfortably cool on his overheated skin. Poe resisted the urge to shiver again. 

Han wore the look of someone asked to pick the lesser of two impossible options. Which, Poe considered, was exactly what he was forced to do. Poe didn’t like his idea either. A large chance of their survival hung on Ben alone. If the Falcon’s speed fell below her minimum need to fly, the engines would stall, sending them careening uncontrollably into deep space. All they needed was a little extra sublight energy. Poe knew Ben’s power in the Force was great. He’d seen evidence of that during their long friendship together. Still, it was still bitterly unfair what he’d asked him to do. 

“Ben, are you sure?” Han’s voice was a low rumble. 

“Trust me.” 

Something passed between father and son, too quick for Poe to fully catch. Then Han was in command once more. 

“Poe, we’re going with your plan. Take gunner one. Ben, you’re sitting co-pilot, next to me. I’m flying. Those pirates will eat our wash. Let’s punch it.” 

Poe spared one last glance at his friend before evacuating the pilot’s seat and sprinting to the gunner. There was no time for assurances. Or goodbyes. 

Once seated and buckled at the gunner station, Poe donned the comm headset that linked to the cockpit. Despite the faint buzzing in his ears, he managed to clear his thoughts enough to remember his training and engage the link with the proper directives. 

“Gunner to command. Gunner loaded and ready to fire.” 

“Copy, gunner.” Han’s voice came in loud and clear, as if he were sitting right next to him. “Pilot ready for flight and to kick some pirate ass.”

Poe let out a shaky laugh. 

“We’ll be fine, kid. Hang tight for the g-force and get ready to fire when I say. Sound good?” 

“Yeah, sounds good.” 

“All right, here we go.” 

The Falcon hummed with unreleased energy. In the next second, she was off. Poe didn’t even have time to think. Stars flew past him behind the glass, silver light blurring together against unrepentant black. And out of it came the pirate fighter in hot pursuit. Evidently the pirates had seen the Falcon take flight and assumed she was making a desperate bid for freedom. So far their plan was working. 

Poe’s fingers itched for the trigger as he watched the fighter get closer and closer. She was perfectly within his sights. 1,000 clicks. 500 clicks. Less than 300 clicks. It took every ounce of willpower Poe possessed to hold his fire. 

“Pulling up--now!” 

G-force sucked Poe’s body into the welcoming support of the gunner seat. Just as he’d been shown in sim, Poe allowed gravity to take its natural hold. For a brief moment up was down, and Poe could see the enemy ship fly beneath them as the Falcon hung suspended in space. Time slowed to a halt. 

“Ben, punch it! Punch it!” 

Dimly, Poe was aware of Han shouting in his ear, but he paid no mind. Every nerve ending in his body was currently straining for the tell-tale sound of the sublight engine roaring to life. 

Nothing. 

A quiet rumble. 

Then, a thundering gale, easing the Falcon into a controlled descent. 

_Ben, he did it!_ Poe’s whooping cry of victory could have rattled the stars. 

With an expert hand, Han righted the Falcon and switched to main auxiliary power. She shot down then forward, cleaving the enemy ship’s jetwash in two. Finally, the Falcon was in lag pursuit. Poe quickly sought to find the Kiraxz between his crosshairs. The element of surprise wouldn’t last much longer. Once the pirates realized their mistake, speed would be on their side and the Falcon once again at their mercy. 

In sim Poe’d been taught to never waste ammunition: a defenseless ship was a dead ship. But this was the best chance the Falcon would ever get to take her enemy. There was no time for orders; it was the pirates or them. With a talent born out of practice, Poe locked the ship in his sights and fired rapidly into the center of mass. One round, two, then three for good measure. 

Explosions rocked the Kiraxz. A wing and fin sailed clear across the Falcon’s path. 

“Yes! Yes!” Poe shouted. 

Over the comm Poe could hear Ben’s own jubilation, a cacophony of undignified hollers. A broad grin worked its way across his face. 

“Force alive, kid! Great shooting! We’re headed to lightspeed, so sit back for a moment--” 

The Falcon’s hyperdrive kicked up a notch. “--and then get up to the cockpit. We’re headed back to base.” 

Poe gave a breathless laugh of wonder, exultant and dazed all at once. 

“You bet, sir.” 

Fingers shaking, Poe attempted to unfasten the gunner’s safety belt. Dull nails slid and missed the clasp, surface smooth after years of repeated use. No such luck. Adrenaline had ruined whatever stability he had left in his hands. The irony was not lost on him: Poe Dameron, Pirate Defeater, bested by a piece of cloth and metal. Before Poe could work up the humility to open the comms and ask for assistance, the sound running feet on metal walkway reached his ears. 

“Poe!” Ben burst into the gunner’s station, wild-eyed and out of breath. He immediately crossed the threshold and embraced Poe where he sat, still confined in his chair. 

“You were incredible! Dad couldn’t believe it when you shot that ship--right out in front of us. No commands either! _I_ couldn’t believe it.” Ben babbled near-incoherently. 

“Me! What about you? You used the Force on a sublight engine. I’ve never seen anything like it. Wait until you tell Master Luke!” 

Ben visibly glowed with pride. 

“Dad said he hasn’t seen anyone do that before either. Knew you and I could handle it. Those pirates never stood a chance.” 

With a last tight squeeze of affection, Ben removed himself the embrace. He then extended his fist to cement the duo’s victory. Knuckles met in silent triumph shared. It was understood that there were no words to say. 

A polite cough came from the doorway. 

Poe turned to see Han leaning against the frame, head at a tilt and arms crossed over his chest. To the casual observer, he would’ve presented the picture of indifference. Poe knew better. Like his son, Han revealed himself in his eyes, which were currently shining brighter than any star in the galaxy. 

“You boys ready to head back up to the cockpit? We have one heckuva story to report back to ground control. Thought you might want to be a part of the fun.”

Ben punched the air in excitement. “Yes! Poe, you coming?” 

Subtly Poe sought to extricate himself from his belted prison. After everything they’d done today, he didn’t want Ben and his dad to see him undone by a gunner seat, of all things. So not wizard. 

“Er.” 

“Here.” Han knelt swiftly down to eye level. There was a small uptick in the corner of his mouth, but his words were straight laced. “Got to watch those seats there. The catch can be pretty ornery.” 

Han hit the click and recoil. Poe was finally free! 

He jackknifed up and out of the seat. “Yeah. Yup. Very tricky stuff, those buckles. Might want to have those looked at. Could be dangerous, yeah?” 

Han nodded sagely, as if his ramblings made perfect sense. Once again his eyes were gleaming.

“Right. Back to the bridge, shall we? Oh, and Ben. On the way up there, you might want to be thinking of a good excuse to tell your mother this evening. Same goes for you, Poe. Because both were so helpful in ridding us of the pirates, you can help take the heat.” 

“Dad, why can’t we just say everything was fine? There’s no way they’d even know.” Ben whined pitifully. 

Han turned to his son, deathly serious. 

“Ben. I’ve told you a thousand times. Women always figure out the truth. Always.” 

Poe gulped. He had yet to consider his mother. Maura Dameron was a fierce woman to behold. To Poe’s misfortune, she was equipped with a poodoo reader that could see through even the most cleverly concocted story. Between pirates and his mother’s infamous Eyebrow of Disapproval, it’d almost be worth considering going round two with the pirates. 

Still, Poe thought as he trailed behind Ben and Han back to the cockpit, already working on coming up with a way to coolly break the news to her, the day might’ve been worth it after all…

_Pirates._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i. Unbeta'd. All mistakes are mine.  
> 


End file.
